


Up Against Walls

by purplesocrates



Category: Rejseholdet | Unit One
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Blow Jobs, Excessive smoking, La Fisch, M/M, Post Series Spoilers, Rejseholdet, Unit One, fischer - Freeform, la cour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2017-06-15
Packaged: 2018-11-14 14:35:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11210079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purplesocrates/pseuds/purplesocrates
Summary: Set during the last few episodes and then carrying on for Fischer being in The Hague."  "Are you alright?"He asks this as if they have not shared a bed, as if La Cour has not heard Fischer whisper I'm yours baby into La Cour's ear when he was feigning sleep, as if they hadn't led together and watched the early morning sun come through so many different pairs of curtains in so many different places, different rooms that turned out to be all the same place and all the same room. As if he wouldn't do anything, including this, for La Cour, that he would drop his life, drop everything as easy as he would drop nothing for this man.  As if he doesn't belong to the man speaking to him in this cold car, frost on the windows from how long it took him to walk through the forest to make sure he hadn't been followed. Their breath is fogging in the cold, heat leaving their bodies again. He shivers, his skin is itching from the inside out with need and not just for the drugs. "





	Up Against Walls

**Author's Note:**

  * For [swingtime](https://archiveofourown.org/users/swingtime/gifts).



> This contains spoilers for all of Unit One.

"Are you alright?"

He asks this as if they have not shared a bed, as if La Cour has not heard Fischer whisper I'm yours baby into La Cour's ear when he was feigning sleep, as if they hadn't led together and watched the early morning sun come through so many different pairs of curtains in so many different places, different rooms that turned out to be all the same place and all the same room. As if he wouldn't do anything, including this, for La Cour, that he would drop his life, drop everything as easy as he would drop nothing for this man. As if he doesn't belong to the man speaking to him in this cold car, frost on the windows from how long it took him to walk through the forest to make sure he hadn't been followed. Their breath is fogging in the cold, heat leaving their bodies again. He shivers, his skin is itching from the inside out with need and not just for the drugs.

"Yeah sure, why not?" His voice is cracked, if La Cour hears it he does not react, as usual he is miles away, millimetres and miles away at the same time.

"You can talk to me. If you need to." This is unexpected and it makes Fischer want to cry, instead he takes out a cigarette and lights it looking out of the window. "You can't smoke in here." Fischer looks at him with disbelief as if any consequence from this smallest of infractions would be enough for him to stop, La Cour sighs and concedes. "Fine roll down the window."

Fischer almost explains that it's freezing outside but doesn't because he knows he would do anything for this man, he is doing anything for this man. He rolls down the window an inch, a compromise, La Cour smiles thinly but it does not meet his eyes. They are both so worn now, pale and stretched. They both miss the days they can't ever get back.

Fischer smokes and tells La Cour what he knows, what's happened this week, who has said what, who is moving what where, he is close to the inner circle now it shouldn't be long. He doesn't tell him that he is haunted by La Cour's face when he tries to sleep in the dingy hotel room alone, he doesn't tell him how he misses the sound of La Cour's moans, the way La Cour would tease him about his hair, the way he would touch him, lingering for just too long, how when Fischer would turn up at his hotel room vibrating with need. La Cour would devour him with his hands and mouth. How La Cour would allow him to smoke then, taking a few post coital drags, how Fischer would watch the end of the cigarette in his mouth with a fascination bordering on obsession, how he wishes La Cour would ask for a drag right now. He won't though, he knows he won't.

He dreads and lives for these meetings in equal measure. They are his lifeline and his complete undoing.

"It shouldn't be too much longer." This is suppose to sound reassuring, perhaps comforting but to Fischer the thought of this ending is terrifying. The thought that they would not have these weekly meetings in this cold car, in this bubble, in this forest makes him want to cry again he just sniffs too loudly like he always does when he's uncomfortable. La Cour knows his ticks and chooses to ignore the implication, because he feels the same. The guilt over what he has done to Fischer lingers at the edges of La Cour's mind like a constant buzzing, an itch just under the skin where he can't reach.

"No." Fischer replies and steals a glance at La Cour who is actually looking at him and their eyes meet, awkward and reticent, they both smile briefly and wait for the other one to look away, neither of them do. "Not long now."

"You didn't answer my question." You never do, La Cour thinks but doesn't say.

Fischer looks at him as if he doesn't know what La Cour means, a raised eyebrow, a challenge and he concedes. "I am fine, as fine as I can be."

La Cour wants to apologise he wants to reach out and touch him but somehow he can't, it's a floodgate he can't open, he can't reach. La Cour’s fingers flinch and Fischer notices but thinks it's just because La Cour wants a smoke, he suddenly feels bad so he throws his cigarette out the window into the snow imagining it melting a hole through ice to the ground hibernating underneath.

"I should go." Fischer says like he always does, he waits, hoping for a reason to stay, it never comes. Just a nod, cursory almost professional.

He opens the door and La Cour manages to reach out and touch his arm, it feels like a freezer burn, something that shouldn't be, an echo from a long ago age, it makes something start to thaw at the very centre of Fischer, he can't afford for it to thaw, they can't afford that dam breaking. So Fischer stills but doesn't turn to look at him. "I'll contact you in a few days, usual protocol." La Cour’s voice is steadier than it has any right to be.

This time Fischer nods curt and professional, the hand is removed and he leaves the car for the cold and makes his way through the forest again, he doesn't hear the car start he never does.

  
\------

It is almost two weeks until they meet again and Fischer is pale with need, lack of sleep and too many drugs he never wanted but now needs like oxygen and it makes him feel sick at the part of himself that excepts this and almost revels in it. He gets in the back this time because he can make out someone in the front seat. He should be more cautious but his trust in La Cour goes so deep, there are times when it feels like if he looked, if he could look, his bones would have La Cour's name etched into them.

He sees Ingrid and feels his heart swell, he feels like he is being torn open at the sight of her, she is transporting him to his past, a past he was almost sure was a dream. He can feel La Cour's apology pressed up against the windows, he sniffs and tries to act nonchalant, he feels bad about Ingrid, he wants to apologise but the words are tangled up with La Cour's unspoken ones.

As he walks back through the forest he smiles.

\--------

They meet once more in the car. He knows this will be the last time so takes slightly longer to get there, taking his time through the cold forest feet crunching in the snow as he chain smokes, dropping ash on the ground. The air is damp and it's overcast, he can feel every breath in his lungs like icicles of frost are growing in them. He can feel very little other than pain, a dull ache that reminds him he is alive but only just. The itch has made its was from just under the skin to the surface, he has red marks on his skin from where he scratches at night, unconsciously attempting to satisfy a need.

He sees the car just ahead of the tree line, he can make out the shape of La Cour sat stoically still in the front seat, he is alone this time. He finishes his cigarette watching. He takes a deep breath and starts to run, to seem out of breath it doesn't take a lot to achieve this. He opens the door and La Cour doesn't even flinch despite the fact that he wasn't apparently even looking.

"Hi." Fischer says in his cracked voice he looks straight ahead he's not sure he's ready to look directly at that profile yet or worse if he were to turn and fix his eyes straight on La Cour.

"Hi." They both stare straight ahead, unmoved but bodies humming with a need they can't contain.

"Jonny is on board." La Cour says matter of factly. He feels a slight twinge for Gaby but ignores it.

"Good."

"It will be over soon."

He is unsure what La Cour means by this, on the surface it is the job, the job will be over soon, they both know that's not all he means. It hurts and he wants to reach out to La Cour, to touch him just reassure himself that La Cour is real and not a figment of his own imagination

"What happens afterwards?" The double meaning of this is once again not lost on either of them, he takes a deep breath and turns his head to look at La Cour who is still unmoved by this, at least on the surface. He suddenly has a wave of memory, of pale taught skin, of long lithe limbs intertwined with his own, of being swept up. He can't believe it was real and he starts to question how they got here and how they will ever leave. What the next step of their evolution will be.

"You can go back. You can go back to your old life, see your son." La Cour looks at him then, eyes meeting, he smiles slightly and this time it does reach his eyes.

"I'm not sure what my old life was." He finds he is also smiling he can't help but be a mirror, they are so connected. Fischer wants to ask to kiss him but he can't find the words, so they just stare at each other for too long letting the tension build until finally La Cour laughs. The sound is like a long lost song to Fischer’s ears and he can't help but laugh as well.

"We will always be friends Fischer, I can promise you that." That is all La Cour can promise and it is all he needs.

"I know." Fischer looks away he can't meet those dark eyes for too long. He fiddles with his cigarettes.

"You can smoke."

"Thanks." He lights one and La Cour watches him, he offers it to La Cour who smiles and takes it, places it to his lips and takes a deep drag. He is transported and finds he closes his eyes for a moment at the thought of what they used to do in those hotel rooms. La Cour is looking at him with a wistful expression on his face and he hands the cigarette back.

They have never talked that much both enjoying silence, words never seemed enough anyway, not when they had touch. Now they have neither he feels as if he needs words, he wants to pour out everything like a flood but he can't seem to find the words. They watch as the snow falls down, gently covering the car. It almost feels like he is being suffocated but he doesn't mind.

"Are you alright?"  
  
La Cour is looking at him again, he can feel the gaze on his profile as he smokes and looks at the snow, Fischer shivers, he is always cold. He thinks about not answering, or just saying what he always says but that weight of regret that would follow him when he leaves this car suddenly seems so overwhelming he isn't sure he would survive it.

"Honestly I'm not sure." He still can't look at La Cour when he speaks.

"Is there anything you need?"

Fischer snorts then, he needs everything, he needs something, he just needs.

"You." Fischer eventually replies his voice is a whisper and he feels so pulled tight that he might snap. He still can't look at La Cour, instead he closes his eyes and imagines La Cour's smile.

"I know, I need you too."

He opens his eyes and looks at La Cour who has reached out a hand and is touching the side of his face, the warmth of that hand is thawing him and he closes his eyes leaning into the touch. He feels like a touch starved creature, he could stay like this forever. He opens his eyes to find La Cour's gaze still fixed on him and he smiles back.

"I miss you, I will miss this."

"I know me too."

"I wish.." the thought dies on his lips because it is a wish neither of them can fulfil.

"Be careful." It is a dismissal and Fischer is unsure if he will be able to force his body out of this car.

"I always am."

La Cour laughs again as he thinks of all the times Fischer was the least careful, acting before thinking, it was after all that impulsiveness that led to Fischer appearing at La Cour's hotel room and pressing him against the wall in a hungry kiss.

"Seriously. Be careful, don't put yourself in harms way. Please." La Cour is suddenly closer and is pressing his forehead against Fischer's, his hand is now on the back of Fischer's neck, pads of his fingers adding pressure to the muscle. "Please." La Cour whispers.

Fischer smiles "I promise." He wants to kiss La Cour but he knows they won't, he can't, so instead they stay like this for too long until he in one sudden movement breaks away and leaves the car, tears starting to freeze on his face. This time he does hear the car leave.

\---------

Fischer lies on the bed, legs dangling over the edge, he holds the gauze he was given against the worst of the cuts on his face. Everything hurts. His mind hurts. His heart hurts most of all. He groans and wants to cry but the thought of salt in his wounds stops him. He is staring at the ceiling it hurts to close his eyes.

He hears the door open, the click of the lock and the gentle closing of it, he knows those soft footfalls like a memory from childhood. He doesn't move, he just waits.

La Cour stands at the foot of the bed and looks at Fischer, blood congealing on his face. He should be in hospital.

"I told you to be careful."

Fischer wants to laugh but the thought of it hurts so he just sighs. He wants a cigarette badly but his lip is too ripped to smoke. He hears La Cour remove his coat and put it on the chair in the corner, he then assumes La Cour is removing his shoes. He then feels the bed move as La Cour lies beside him, both of their legs hanging over the edge now. La Cour is looking at him but he is still looking at the ceiling. La Cour reaches out and puts his hand over Fischer's hand which is pressing the gauze down taking it from him he keeps pressure on the wound. "You should be in hospital. You need stitches."

"I'm fine." He says echoing the words he would always say in the car, in their bubble. La Cour smiles as he thinks those fraught car meetings are finally a part of their history now which seems so strange to him.

"You should get cleaned up."

Fischer turns his head and looks at La Cour who removes the gauze and looks at the blood, frowning.

"Can't move." Fischer suddenly feels every ache so acutely he could scream.

"I'll help you." Fischer raises an eyebrow at that which only gets a responding frown from La Cour.

"You are in no condition." La Cour stands, he throws the gauze in the bin and then kneels down and removes Fischer's shoes, then his socks. He stands up and leans over the bed, he carefully picks up each of Fischer's arms taking them out of his coat. La Cour then hooks an arm around Fischer and gently pushes him to sit up and he groans at the probable broken ribs. La Cour kneels in front of him and unbuttons Fischer's shirt and shrugs it off his shoulders. The bruises are starting to form, yellow and purple, La Cour runs his fingers along them and Fischer flinches.

"I'm going to run the shower. Can you stand?" La Cour says this as he runs a hand tenderly through Fischer's hair.

He nods and La Cour leaves, the water is turned on and then La Cour comes back. He gently helps Fischer to stand, he places a hand on La Cour's shoulder to keep him upright as La Cour undoes Fischer's trousers and removes them and his underwear. They then slowly make their way to the bathroom where La Cour deposits Fischer on the closed toilet while he also undresses quickly and without fuss he then helps Fischer into the bathtub to stand under the shower.

La Cour gently washes him, removing all the congealed blood, his touch is gentle and tender and Fischer feels almost hypnotised by the soft swift movement of his hands. La Cour washes Fischer's hair, massaging the shampoo, Fischer moans his approval which earns him a chaste kiss on the shoulder.

Once he is done La Cour helps Fischer out of the shower and covers him with a towel then he gently leads Fischer back to the bedroom where he makes sure he is dry, La Cour then sits Fischer on the end of the bed with a towel wrapped around his waist. La Cour puts on a robe and then goes to the bag he brought with him which contains a first aid kit. He goes about cleaning the wounds on Fischer's face, adding small strips to the larger cuts, closing the skin. He then feels Fischer's ribs which causes Fischer to flinch and La Cour to frown again, there is more than one broken, they need to be wrapped. He reaches in to the bag for the support bandage and begins to wrap it tightly around Fischer's ribs.

After La Cour is satisfied he has done all he can for Fischer he gets him a glass of water and shoves some painkillers into his hand and stands there until he takes them. He then takes the glass from him and places it on the small table, he then helps Fischer into bed tucking him in like a child. He then lies beside him on his side watching as Fisher's eyes flutter close.

"Do you need anything?"

Fischer opens his eyes and looks at La Cour and smiles "no."

\-------

  
He has small one bedroom apartment at The Hague, it's a prison of sorts but it's better than the previous one he was in. He reads a lot and thinks about the past, he thinks about Jonny a lot. He's gets emails from Gabby and Ingrid who tell him Jonny is doing better. He still flinches every time he reads them. He looks at pictures of his son and hopes that he won't be forgotten. Ingrid calls him every few weeks and they have a strained conversation that opens up wounds for both of them but he likes hearing the sound of her voice.

He talks to his ex wife and son over the phone and he holds the sound of their voices in his head like a prayer. He wonders at this new normal he has found himself in and wonders if his life will ever be normal.

He tries not to think of waking up that morning to La Cour's eyes, the first time they had woken up to each other, the first them they had just slept while sharing a bed. La Cour had watched over him as he slept, worried he might stop breathing. They had smiled at each other on waking and La Cour had languidly and gently kissed him. He could feel himself breaking and coming together at the same time. He tries not to think about La Cour helping him get dressed about pushing La Cour against the wall by the door before they left and kissing him so fiercely the cut re-opened on his lip, he tries not to think about La Cour tasting his blood and how it made him feel, the thaw finally melting and the fire between them once again ignited. He tries not to think about La Cour leaving the room first so Fischer could gather the broken parts of himself up, finding his way out of the room and into the car.

\-------

La Cour is nervous it's not a feeling he is especially used to, it's one that only Fischer seems to be able to achieve in him. He smiles at that. He has missed his friend, his lover, his other self. He has found his way here in a daze of sorts and can't quite believe he made it. Ingrid only asked the bare minimum of questions to get him here, they have a soft unspoken understanding that he treasures.

He knocks on the door and waits the short moments it takes for Fischer to open the door. At the sight of him all his nerves fall away and he smiles at the different looks flickering across Fischer's face. They both laugh as Fischer grabs La Cour and envelopes him in a hug, La Cour vaguely wonders if they have ever hugged before and regrets that they haven't. They stay like this for so long it's as if they are making up for all the times they didn't do this. Eventually La Cour pushes him off.

"Can I come in?" La Cour laughs and Fischer moves aside to let him in. The moment Fischer closes the door he pushes La Cour up against the wall and kisses him, their lips meeting like a memory, hands roam against each other, their bodies seem to have a muscle memory reaction to each other and soon they are both breathless and desperate.

Fischer undoes La Cour's belt and pushes his trousers and underwear down, Fischer then falls to his knees, pushing La Cour's foreskin back he then places both hands on La Cour's hips and holds him firmly in place against the wall, fingers pressing into flesh. He then takes La Cour in his mouth, tongue swirling around him he sucks and relishes the taste, he missed this so much. Fischer is reminded of all the times in the mobile office on stakeouts together he would distract La Cour with his tongue, having a sudden need to hear the moans he would make and the sound of his own name released from La Cour's lips as he came into Fischer's mouth.

"Fuck." La Cour moans and Fischer's responding approval at making the usually stoic man swear vibrates down the length of La Cour's cock. Fischer remembers how to to undo La Cour, he could never forget, he dreams of hearing the very noises he is now making as he allows La Cour to fuck his mouth until he is spilling deep into the back of Fischer's throat.

Fischer stands up and kisses him, La Cour can taste himself on Fischer and it makes him moan with need again. "Do you have a bed?" La Cour laughs and Fischer smiles.

"I thought you liked it when we did this?" Up against walls was always where they started sometimes making it to the bed more times not. Fischer starts to kiss La Cour's neck, exploring the skin with his tongue he just wants to taste every part of him.

"You are just impulsive." La Cour can feel the shape of Fischer's smile against his skin and it makes him moan again.

“Fuck I missed you.” Fischer says this into La Cour’s neck, biting at the skin hoping to leave a mark.

La Cour pushes Fischer away steps out of his shoes so he can take his trousers and underwear off completely he should feel faintly ridiculous standing here in this hallway half undressed but the look on Fischer’s face chases any feeling of embarrassment far away. La Cour shucks off his coat and jacket letting them fall to the ground so he is just wearing a shirt, he grabs Fischer by his t shirt and fiercely kisses him. Fischer manages to steer them both to the bed which is only a short distance in the small flat. They both quickly lose clothes and La Cour pushes Fischer down onto the bed and covering him with his body, Fischer is achingly hard by this point and La Cour realises how much he has missed the weight of Fischer’s cock in his hand as grasps the length and starts to slowly move his hand up and down the shaft. La Cour kisses every expanse of flesh he can find, licking and biting at nipples as Fischer arches his back and moans beneath him. Fischer comes loudly in La Cour’s hand as La Cour collapses on top of him nuzzling at Fischer’s neck.

La Cour rolls off Fischer and off the bed he finds the bathroom quickly and washes his hands he brings back a washcloth which he throws at Fischer who uses it clean himself up. La Cour joins him on the bed as Fischer lights a cigarette and takes a drag and passes it to La Cour who smiles and takes it. Fischer watches lips curl around the cigarette, throat muscles move and fingers delicate and strong and he can’t help but smile.

Fischer wants to ask a million questions but they can wait he just wants to live in this moment, he just wants to share a smoke with La Cour, tasting nicotine and La Cour on every drag. Watching La Cour’s chest move up and down with every inhale and exhale Fischer imagines their molecules merging in each other's lungs.

The silence between them settles with something approaching comfort, it is so far from the car and their bubble of unspoken uncertainties and need. Fischer feels his body relaxing as if is has come home and he never wants this to end, he wishes this to be their bubble for as long as it can be until it inevitably bursts.

Eventually Fischer can’t keep the words in any longer, he speaks in a hushed low tone, words smoothed out no sharp edges pressing against the flimsy skin of the bubble re-forming between them. “How did you get permission to see me?”

La Cour smiles as he finishes the cigarette passing it to Fischer to stub out on the ashtray next to the bed. “Ingrid.”

Fischer raises an eyebrow “what did you tell her?”

La Cour smiles “just that I thought you could use a friend.”

Fischer laughs, he always assumed Ingrid knew that something was going on between them but never said, she wouldn't, she was never like that. “Thank her from me.” As the words leave Fischer’s mouth the unspoken question that he desperately wants to ask but dreads any other answer than forever hangs between them threatening to weigh the bubble down until it bursts.

“I’m here for a week.” La Cour answers it because he hates to see disappointment on Fischer’s face not after everything, he figures the sooner it comes the sooner it will leave. “We have a week.”

“Okay.” Fischer sighs and realises that being able to breath again for a week will be better than the suffocating despair he has been living in these past months. He will have to keep some of this oxygen for later, he can hoard it in his mind, he's done it before.

“How are you?” La Cour asks him just as he always does.

“Better now.” Fischer confesses in a rare moment of honesty.

La Cour smiles “me too.”

“A week” Fischer breathes out.

“A week.”

Fischer turns onto his side and leans over to kiss La Cour thinking about all the times he wanted to in the car. La Cour’s hand comes up, fingers running through Fischer's hair which has grown long but he hasn't gelled it back yet today, its the way La Cour has always liked it, soft strands softly flowing through his fingers. Their tongues meet and they can taste nicotine on each other and it's suddenly like coming home, as if they have passed through a portal somewhere to the past and it feels so right to be swallowing each other's slow moans, to feel each other's lips brush together makes their bodies feel like they have landed after so many hours, days, weeks and months of being apart, of flying in different orbits from each other.

La Cour is starting to realise how much he had been craving this, how his body had been needing this, how the connection between them had grown so taught it felt like it might snap. He can feel himself getting hard again and he feels like a teenager, Fischer is the only one who can do this to him make his body come alive with such constant need. He can feel Fischer’s smile against his lips at the knowledge of the effect he has on this still, stoic man.

“I want to take my time fucking you.” La Cour whispers this into Fischer’s ear and it almost undoes him, La Cour very rarely talks like this, its a testament to how long its been. Fischer can only moan in response.

La Cour rolls over so he is covering Fischer with his body, placing an arm either side of Fischer’s face he holds himself up so he can look at him. La Cour can’t remember the last time they were this close when there was not blood, no case, no hurt so raw it was an open wound between them. When it was just Fischer and La Cour in a bed together. He had missed mapping the scars of Fischer's face, he has some new ones since he last saw him, the injuries from the fight having healed, the last time he saw him he was still bloody. La Cour wants to take them in, every line, every crevasse of that face. Fischer just stares back at the man whose eyes would appear behind his own closed ones every night and can’t quite believe they are actually here above him studying him with that usual intensity.

Fischer brings a hand up to touch La Cour’s hair, its flecked with some silver strands in the red now which only seem to make it shine brighter. That soft red was a colour Fischer has seen everywhere and nowhere, poor approximations all to the real thing. That pale almost luminous skin, piercing eyes that just see straight through everyone. There is nothing those eyes don’t see. He used to linger and watch as La Cour would put a crime scene together in his mind, an endlessly fascinating skill. That slow patience and attention to detail that he always had, that pure perception that seemed to haunt him. Fischer was all movement, always chasing action, he hated the paperwork, the rules. He had found solace for all this unspent energy in La Cour’s bed, youthful frustration spent, now it feels like something else between them. The passion has evolved, Fischer finds he wants nothing more than to be slowly taken apart by La Cour, he wants to beg, he wants to be broken.

They kiss slowly and languidly, they are never like this, they are always a blur and it finally feels like they merging together, molecules coming together with an inevitability. “Lube?” La Cour asks as he knows Fischer will have some, he has some in his case but the thought of leaving this bed right now is more than he can take.

Fischer smiles “drawer in bedside table.”

La Cour reaches across and opens the drawer as he does so Fischer takes the opportunity to scrape his other hand down La Cour's back digging his nails in slightly he just wants to mark him, he wants La Cour know feel these marks. La Cour retrieves the bottle and squeezes some of its contents onto his fingers, Fischer watches this with a growing anticipation. With a smile La Cour sits up and settles himself between Fischer's legs, his fingers find Fischer’s hole and brush against it, circling gently before pushing partly in, he watches as Fischer breathes through the intrusion, they both think how much they have missed them. La Cour pushes further in, he stops just short of the prostate and gives Fischer a moment to catch his breath before he pulls out again and slowly re-enters him. He keeps this agonising pace going for several minutes before adding another finger and just as slowly and teasingly, skirting the prostate he fucks Fischer with his fingers.

“More I need more.” Fischer moans and La Cour smiles as he finally brushes the pads of his fingers against the prostate which causes Fischer’s back to arch up beautifully and for a long, drawn out moan to leave his lips.

La Cour adds another finger and begins to pick up the pace, hitting the prostate at uneven intervals until Fischer is begging and writhing beneath him, La Cour places a hand on Fischer’s hip to steady him. The sheen of sweat on Fischer's skin makes La Cour want to lick him, he watches as Fischer responds to each intrusion, he can the feel the stretching of the muscles around his fingers and he can see Fischer’s cock erect and flinching at every push of La Cour’s fingers. La Cour spends some time circling Fischer's prostate until he is incoherent with need, a mess of want. It is beautiful and makes La Cour want to fix this sight to memory.

Eventually La Cour removes his fingers causing Fischer to moan at the loss, he pushes his own foreskin back and pours lube on his cock. He pours some on Fischer’s cock too even though he is leaking precum, La Cour gently lowers himself so he is covering Fischer, he lines up his cock as Fischer lifts his hips to meet him. One of La Cour’s hands is bracing himself up by Fischer's head and the other is wrapped around Fischer’s cock to which he gives a few gentle tugs before slowly pushing inside Fischer. They both moan as La Cour slowly fucks Fischer, his hips moving at a gentle but steady pace which makes Fischer move his hips asking for more.

La Cour restrains himself for as long as he can but then his body takes over and he begins to move faster wanting to go deeper and he hits Fischer's prostate with an increasing speed. La Cour’s hand moves up and down at the same pace and soon they are both lost to the obscene noises of their bodies coming together and the loud moans Fischer is making. Fischer comes first and the violence causes La Cour to move even faster and fuck him until he is a vibrating over-stimulated mess. La Cour comes with a loud shout and collapses on top of Fischer breathing heavily.

“Fuck.” La Cour manages and he kisses Fischer’s shoulder, tasting the sweat pooled there, he rolls off Fischer who moans at the loss of La Cour inside him and the weight of him.

They both think how different that was, how they have never spent time before, how it was always quick and fervent. Neither can speak or move for the moment both content to lie in the mess of their passion. La Cour wipes his hand on the sheet uncaring which makes Fischer smile and reach across for the cigarettes. They share one, it never occurs to either of them to light more than one. Smoke curls in the air between them.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
